Sanguine Skies
by Pantherfang
Summary: Firestar is dead. Mistystar has been imprisoned by ThunderClan for his murder, and all the Clans are stretched to chaos as the warrior code begins to crack. Meanwhile, rebellion and revolution are heating the skies; SunClan is rising. And, not so far away, a wolf and an exiled warrior plot a battle that threatens to destroy the Clans forever...
1. Prologue: The Prophecy

__**Note to readers:  
Sanguine Skies is the second book in the War of Fangs trilogy. If you haven't read the first, The Wolf and the Warriors, I strongly recommend you do so.  
The characters in this story are drawn from the Allegiances of Sign of the Moon (excluding the cats who died in the previous book, of course). However, as far as the plot goes, the best I can say is that it's set after The Fourth Apprentice. I have never read beyond that, and as Dovewing and Ivypool are not cats I particularly care about, I have no need to. So I have no actual idea what happens to Lionblaze, Jayfeather, and Hollyleaf.  
Think of it this way—after the events of The Fourth Apprentice, some Twoleg flipped a coin and one world split away from the universe. I'm told things like this happen all the time. In this world, the events of Fading Echoes and whatever comes after that didn't happen—it all progressed nicely, cats being apprenticed and having their warrior ceremonies and so forth—right until something went seriously wrong with the land around the lake. All the fish and prey dropped dead practically overnight. And what happened then? Read The Wolf and the Warriors.  
If you have read that book, or you want a sample, read on—and review if you wish!**

"_Ask, and it shall be given; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be open unto you." –Matthew, 7:7_**  
**  
Beyond the slopes of the snow-capped mountains lies a lake of clear, shimmering water; a lake so vast that it seems to hold all the stars of the sky in its keeping. The lake is flanked on three sides by forest—pine, broadleaf, and woodland—and on the fourth there is sweeping moorland.  
Today the lake's surface is smooth and unbroken, but on the night we speak of a small island jutted out of its depths. It rested as a shadow on a lake of silver, touched by the spreading fingers of the half-moon that hung in the sky. The moonbeams lit up the lightly shaded areas of woodland, but could not penetrate the thick broadleaf forest or the pines.

The air was cool and the slightest of breezes trickled through the lake, stirring up small waves that lapped on sandy shores. A smell of damp earth saturated the wind—a lasting remanent of the flooding rains that had drowned the earth barely ten suns ago. The lake had eventually swallowed the water, but the area around it was still marshy to the foot.  
The world around the lake seemed quiet and still. But there was movement, almost invisible to the eye; the silent flight of a hunting owl, the stealthy tread of a fox, and a slight rustling in the bushes towards the edge of the broadleaf trees.

There was a pause, and then a pair of blue eyes glinted out of the darkness. The eyes were wide and wary, but the creature clearly found nothing to fear because a moment later it emerged.  
It was a cat, a rather small, slender tabby tomcat with fur the colour of clouds bearing light rain. He crept forwards, pushing his way through the last of the cover, before he stopped at the edge of the moorland. Again he scanned the area; again he found nothing out of the ordinary, and began to run, a patch of light-coloured fur in the black expanse of the moors. Suddenly he seemed to lose all his grace, his paws falling beneath him as he tumbled to the ground.

"Mouse dung!" Jayfeather, medicine cat of ThunderClan, spat. He shook himself violently and climbed more carefully to his paws. Irritation burned his stomach. What was the point of having the power to see beyond sight if you couldn't even tell where the ground was uneven?  
He continued his journey with greater care, stopping when the scent of fresh water assailed his keen nose. Though he had never seen the Moonstream, he had heard his old mentor (and mother) Leafpool describe it as a river of starlight, saying it reflected the heavens even though it flowed swiftly. Jayfeather skirted its edges, feeling the cold touch of mud ooze through his paw fur. The stream was larger than he remembered—swollen by the flooding rains, no doubt. Sudden unease pricked him; the thought of being caught next to a source of water when those rains came again filled him with fear.

The grey medicine cat trotted up the Moonstream, following it to its source—a spring of water sacred to the Clans, and very possibly the cats who came before them. He felt his paws find the footprints in the stone; marks of the healers of old. He wondered idly if any of the pawmarks belonged to Rock.  
Jayfeather at last stopped at the Moonpool and dropped to his belly, his nose scenting for its glittering surface. He touched cold water, and dipped his mouth in, lapping up the icy drops.  
A wave of lethargy began to wash over him; he closed his eyes and felt a chill emptiness begin to bloom deep within him. It grew, extinguishing every last drop of warmth in his body, but Jayfeather ignored this. He plunged even deeper into the cold, and was rewarded by a blaze of light that tinted the darkness inside his eyelids red.

Taking a deep breath, Jayfeather opened his eyes, and the blind cat saw beauty.  
Four huge oaks towered in a circle around a rock that gripped at green earth. A sweet-smelling breeze whispered through the leaves. But unlike the previous times he'd been here, the clearing was completely empty.  
Now fury began to burn within him, a rush of feeling that seemed out of place in the tranquil surroundings.  
"Where are you?" he spat. "You wanted him dead, so why are you hiding?"  
There was no answer. Jayfeather tilted his chin up towards the sky, where the stars seemed very bright and close.

"Damn you," he whispered bitterly, and pressed his face into the sweet earth so his warrior ancestors would not see his sorrow.  
_I knew it—I knew it all along. StarClan can't do anything, and they're no different from when they were alive.  
_"Little one," a voice said softly.  
Jayfeather flinched and looked up. Across the clearing, pacing towards him, was a badger.  
"Midnight," he breathed. Of course the stargazing prophet would be here. She always seemed to step in when StarClan failed.  
The beast closed the distance between them and sat down a few fox-lengths away. Her bright black eyes shimmered with sadness; she had known Firestar too.  
"You grieve, little one," she whispered, and Jayfeather turned away from her. The badger leaned forwards and gently tapped his cheek so that he was staring into her face again.

"There no shame in grief, Jayfeather, just as bleeding wound not bad."  
The medicine cat hung his head. "But he's dead, Midnight," he murmured. "He's never coming back."  
"You thought to find Firestar here?" asked Midnight. She shook her head. "StarClan flees, Jayfeather. They not return."  
"They've _left_? Why?"  
"Because of prophecy. They fear it, they see it coming, they think it means death."  
"What prophecy?"  
"Legend. When prophecy comes to pass, spirits will fall from sky."  
Jayfeather shivered. "What is this prophecy, exactly?"

Midnight closed her eyes. "Cannot translate it. Look into pool, see memory."  
The grey tabby looked to his left and saw a small spring of water swirling in the grass. For a moment the water was cloudy; then it resolved into the face of a tortoiseshell tom.  
Jayfeather stumbled back. "_Sol_!" he cried.  
The badger grunted. "Wander-cat, yes. Told Midnight. Listen."  
Taking a deep breath, the medicine cat stepped forwards again and watched Sol. The rogue shrugged his muscular shoulders.  
_I'm seeing Midnight's memories, _Jayfeather realised.

"I only heard it once, Midnight," Sol said in an amused tone. "I was hunting far from here when a snake attacked me. Before I could do anything, a mighty stag crashed through the trees and crushed it under his hoof. When I asked him why he saved me, he spoke of the legend, and told me the verse. He drew this in a tree with his antler…" and here the pool changed to show dirt, where a strange symbol was marked in. Four circles overlapped each other in what a Twoleg would call a Venn diagram; a larger circle enveloped them all.  
Sol tapped a claw to the four conjoined circles. "These four represent the cat, the deer, the owl, and the wolf. They overlap, meaning that their fates are connected. What affects one will affect them all."

"The larger circle?" grunted Midnight.  
Sol shook his head. "The stag wouldn't say."  
"Then tell me verse. You remember."  
The rogue took a deep breath, and began.  
_"When four cats are born under the shadow of lies,  
Watch for the wounded; they walk with green eyes.  
The wolf breaks away, and vengeance will rise  
As nature slays nature under sanguine skies.  
The deer shall hunt as the star-spirits flee,  
While the owls look beyond, both lost and free.  
By a lake, sheltered by the mountains' lee,  
A secret awaits—one that none should see.  
The weapon is born to slay all who have breath,  
So answer these questions: what is right? Who should be left?  
And all who are touched shall be gifted and bereft,  
Watch for the wounded; they bring the stars' death."_

__The blood was roaring through Jayfeather's head as he listened to the words, every line imprinted on his memory forever.  
When Sol finished speaking the Midnight in the pool made a harrumphing noise. "What does Sol wish of Midnight?"  
The tortoiseshell curled his tail around his paws. "The verse interests me. Four cats born under the shadows of lies?"  
"Lies seem to be necessary for cat-births."  
For a moment Sol grew angry. "Keep your secrets, then, Midnight! I already know that four cats were born by a lake because of lies. Leafpool and Crowfeather—"  
"—had three kits," Midnight rumbled. "Two, perhaps, now. I know not."  
"The Three in the prophecy—"  
"Doveflight and Ivypool not be born under lies, Sol, but if you insist, then see for yourself."

Sol's amber eyes shuttered. "They will not let me near."  
"For good reason," answered the badger. "You may go."  
Sol scowled, and the image in the water dissolved.  
Jayfeather looked up at Midnight. "Us?" he whispered.  
Midnight moved her head from side to side in a way that could mean either yes or no. "As I said. Many cats born. Not all of verse fits you."  
"And this is why StarClan ran away?"  
Midnight did not answer this, and turned her head up to the bright, pulsing stars above them. "Go now, Jayfeather. Do not speak of verse unless needs must. Be well." The badger looked back at him, and then vanished, leaving him alone in a memory of Fourtrees.  
Jayfeather stood alone for a time, wondering what it could all mean. Then he closed his eyes, and awoke from his sight._  
__****_

__


	2. Chapter 1: The Dragon Statue

"_It was a mistake," you said. But the cruel thing was, the mistake was mine, for trusting you.  
–David Levithan, The Lovers' Dictionary_

Recreant.  
Do you know what that word means?  
The word is very, very old. It came to our language from Middle English, where it was _recreaunt, _a word for _defeated. _It came to that language from Old French, where it was _recroire, _which was the term used for a man who has surrendered in a duel to the death, or a country that has just lost a battle and is swearing allegiance to its conqueror. It came to Old French from Medieval Latin, where it was _recr__e__dere—_to yield or to pledge. And it from there it came from an older Latin language still; _credere: _to believe.

The word recreant refers to a person that has been unfaithful to a belief, duty or cause; a coward.

—

Hollyleaf yawned as she trailed in the wolf's wake.  
The sun beat down uncomfortably on her black pelt and sparkled on the fine lines of grey that edged her ears. She was a young cat, but bitterness, guilt and darkness had taken its toll on her body. Now, though, she felt almost nothing except a dislike of the unnatural heat that radiated from the air, the sky, and the Thunderpath at her paws.  
"What will we do if a monster comes, wolf?" Hollyleaf asked mildly.  
Matilda glanced briefly over her shoulder at her strange companion. "Move."

"And remind me how exactly do you know that this…" she hesitated, still unsure of the word, "…_castle _exists, again? I've been wandering for moons, and I've never heard of such a place."  
"No matter what you have or have not heard, Hollyleaf, it is real. It is in many wolf tales."  
"Ah, but how do you know it's _still _there? Twolegs change the landscape all the time. Cut down forests, change river courses, grow their blasted stone nests."  
"They do not change their castles," was all Matilda would say.

Hollyleaf decided to give up on pretending that Matilda would answer her questions properly. The wolf had always been taciturn even at her best, but she had grown ever more silent since the disastrous skirmish with the Clan cats a half-moon ago. Her pride had been savagely wounded after she had been defeated by beings she had considered utterly inferior, and even more so when Hollyleaf had saved her life. The cats Matilda fought had ingested poison, so that every bite she took of them would kill her faster. Hollyleaf had told her the cure and nursed her back to health, and that was the crux of the matter; Matilda owed her a debt, and it was an unforgivable thing for such a proud beast.

Thinking of that—and the numerous cats who had died—introduced a fresh attack of melancholia. Hollyleaf had decided long ago to stop destroying herself with guilt over actions she had already taken. Whether or not her choices had been good, there was no possible way for her to go back and change things. Their paws were firmly set on paths created long ago.  
Now anger flared inside her, because it reminded her of the StarClan prophecy; _there will be three, kin of your kin, who hold the power of the stars in their paws. _After musing it over, both with herself and Matilda, who despite herself was interested in the religions of other species, Hollyleaf had discovered that the prophecy was disconcertingly vague about what, if anything, was special about the Three. After all, what powers did stars have? Whenever she had come into contact with StarClan, they had been totally incapable of doing anything worthwhile. Real stars were even less useful; if you had a good memory, you could use them to find your way, but Hollyleaf too often found herself near Twolegplaces and their unnaturally bright skies for it to be reliable. She knew her brothers were unusually talented, but not exceptionally so. Jayfeather could walk in dreams and read emotions, and while that was remarkable, many medicine cats could see things in their sleep to a lesser extent, just as any beast with a sharp enough nose could scent emotion. Lionnblaze's power was even more vague—he was supposed to be unbeatable on the battlefield, but Hollyleaf had seen him beaten many times, most recently by Matilda herself which had left him crippled.

Hollyleaf wished him nothing but eternal agony, and had sworn to kill him when she could. He had murdered her mate.  
Matilda abruptly turned and headed down a small dirt Thunderpath, causing Hollyleaf to briefly lose her balance as she changed her direction. Quickly regaining it, she hurried to catch up. This Thunderpath began to rise into a steep hill, and her muscles complained very slightly as she transformed her gait into the loping stride of a four-legged beast going up. She ignored them; she knew the limits of her body, and this was not it.  
"I always knew Twolegs were mad. Building things on top of a huge hill like this, and they'd find the climb even harder than us." Hollyleaf said. It was more to herself than anything else, but to her surprise Matilda answered.  
"They built the castle on high ground to make it more difficult for their enemies to reach them unseen."

"Twolegs had enemies? What kind of animal hunts Twolegs?"  
"None. They fought other Twolegs. In the time this castle was built, humans were much more like wolves. They formed packs, and each pack had a territory. The alpha pair of the pack lived in the castle. You will see when we reach the top."  
So they walked onwards, and the heat seemed to become more oppressive. At last they rounded the crest and emerged onto the flat surface of the hilltop, and Hollyleaf gasped. She knew at once why Matilda had been so sure the castle still existed.  
It was _huge. _Stone walls, encrusted with moss and ivy, still held their positions firmly on top of the hill. There was no roof or doors of any kind; yet it held a strange magnificence, and as she watched, Hollyleaf gained an insight. _Twolegs, they build these structures—not out of true need, but to simply prove to themselves that they can. They are beautiful for no other reason than beauty._

__Beyond the castle, at the foot of the hill, a lake shimmered in exquisite blue, as though to outshine the artificial construction above it.  
Matilda had been quietly observing the castle as well. She breathed out sharply and walked towards the ruin.  
If there had been an original entrance, it had been lost to time; they simply stepped through the largest, most accessible hole in the wall. The wolf and the cat strode through derelict hallways where once knights and maidens had walked. There were newer scents, too—scents of humans who had explored the ruin, wishing wistfully for the days of chivalry and adventure to return, and scents of somewhat wiser people who knew that in truth the Feudal Ages were times of poverty, war and disease, with very few adventures at all.

"Matilda," said Hollyleaf, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the dreamy silence, "why are we here?"  
"There is a thing I wish to see."  
"This place smells of Twolegs. Do they come here?"  
"Yes, for the same reason we are here. But there are none at this time." She stopped. "In here, I think."  
'Here' was the largest room they had seen yet. There were no furnishings, no rich fabrics displaying wealth, but there was an aura of authority and power echoing through the stones and Hollyleaf knew at once that this would have been where the Twoleg leader would have addressed his Clan. As if to prove it, a stone throne awaited them across the room, but neither of them glanced at it.  
The hall was lined with stones. Five stones. The largest was the centrepiece of the room; the two beasts stepped up to examine it.

Hollyleaf was overcome with awe. Somehow, a Twoleg had managed to shape the stone into a strange but recognizable figure. A Twoleg, tall and powerfully built, wearing a strange pelt, was mounted on a rearing horse and thrusting a stick down into the side of a strange and horrible beast. It resembled a serpent, only with four short yet powerful legs clasping the ground. Sheets of stone formed wings sprouting from its back, and its monstrous head writhed with an expression somewhere between fury, terror, and agony.  
"What is it?" breathed Hollyleaf.

"A human legend," replied Matilda in the same soft voice. "Once upon a time, a town was being ravaged by this beast. At first the humans fed it on sheep, but the sheep ran out, so they began feeding it their children instead through a method of choosing. One day the choosing method picked out the daughter of their alpha pair. The humans warned their alphas that they would rebel if the alphas refused to give up their daughter, and at last they agreed and delivered their daughter to the beast. Just as she was about to be eaten, a new human on horseback galloped up and battled the beast. It took many hours, as the beast had impenetrable scales and could spit poison and its breath was hotter than flame, but at last he thrust his weapon into a space between its side and its wing, where there were no scales. The warrior took the daughter as his mate and they travelled away."  
Hollyleaf shivered. "Are there beasts like that still around?"

"No. It was the last of its kind. My people's legends say that is why this was made—to remind humans that once a creature is gone, it is gone forever."  
Matilda's pack was hauntingly close to the truth; and if either of them had been able to read, they would have seen the scripture etched into the base of the stone form.  
_Stand far from the Sow Bear and Her cubs  
Keep distance from the Lion and His kill  
Walk away from the Hawk, and Her nest on the ledge;  
Come not between the Dragon and His wrath._

__Hollyleaf then grasped something that her kind had never held a word for; pilgrimage. She sensed that there was an importance to this stone, and that merely by seeing it, she had given something to it and taken another thing away. She understood why one would travel many miles merely to see it with their own eyes.  
"Over here, too," Matilda called, and Hollyleaf remembered the other stones. She turned.  
The other stones were not as exquisitely carved as the first, but they were lovely in their own way. She saw a small deer, peering nervously into the distance, and an owl, perched in a tree of stone, a curious wisdom echoing in his eyes. Most chillingly, though, was a cat—a sleek, muscular beast with an expression somewhere between determination and sorrow. The carver of these stone forms had shaped them especially so that focus would go to their eyes, and Hollyleaf wondered why that was so.

The last stone was tucked away, almost but not quite out of sight. It was a wolf, and unlike the other forms with their poetic, gentle expressions, this beast had a snarling savagery. Matilda stepped close to this stone, and bent down to touch the etchings in the base with her nose. They were incomprehensible to her, but her legends had told her that they were the humans' equivalent of scent marks, and that they contained clues about the beasts they were supposed to represent. This time, their speculation was right on the mark. Underneath the little hind's statue was _The Hunter. _Beneath the owl's was _The Seeker. _At the base of the cat statue rested _The Warden. _ And lastly the wolf's read _The Beginning._

__"Why are these here?" Hollyleaf asked.  
"It is tied in with a prophecy. I do not know what it is, but I have a sense that we will find out, soon."  
"Prophecies!" Hollyleaf said with a rush of bitterness. "They cause nothing but pain."  
"Prophecies cause nothing, Hollyleaf—they merely foretell it." Matilda turned away from the statues and padded to the hole they had entered through. "Come. I do not like to be closed in like this."


End file.
